


PDA

by Veto_power_over_clocks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: I tried to fluff, M/M, The only reason it's rated T instead of G is because of one swear word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veto_power_over_clocks/pseuds/Veto_power_over_clocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone's leaving thimbles for (an increasingly confused) Suga. We all know how it's going to end, but what matters is getting there, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	PDA

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imightbejehan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imightbejehan/gifts).



> Bless [imightbejehan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/imightbejehan/pseuds/imightbejehan) for requesting fluff for this ship. I was only going to write the rule 63 kagehina fic, but then this idea attacked me and wouldn't let me go, and when you're given the chance to write OTP fluff, _you take it_.
> 
> Bless my beta, who has to edit stories that always end up being longer than I planned. She deserves all the good things in life.

“There’s a thimble on my bag.”

Suga’s alone in the changing room, but he speaks aloud anyway, in case the words can summon the ability to understand the situation. It’s the third time in the two weeks since the second trimester started that someone has decided to leave him a thimble, and his only theory is that it’s some sort of passive-aggressive message to get him to fix the hem of his clothes (which are perfectly fine, he’s checked).

The first time it happened was on the second day of class. He’d gone to talk to the coach, and everyone had gone home by the time he’d finished. When he pulled his bag from the shelf, he heard a clinking sound and, looking for the source of it, found a thimble on the ground. He assumed it had been on the floor when he’d entered the room and that he’d kicked it by accident, so he put it in his bag and asked everyone about it the next day, but they all denied having lost a thimble. He’d shrugged, left it in his bag, and paid it no mind until the next Monday, when, again, he’d been the last one to leave.

That day when he’d entered the club room, he’d been thinking about how things were kind of similar to how they’d been when he’d found the thimble; and when he reached for his bag he noticed that there was one on top of it.

His first thought was that someone had got into his bag and removed the thimble from the last week, but when he checked it turned out that that one was still in its place.

Which meant someone had left the second one for him to find.

Which meant that, maybe, the first one had also been for him.

Which meant that Suga had just become the confused owner of two thimbles.

Today, as he looks as the third piece of metal on top of his bag, he decides that this is someone’s weird idea of a prank.

He grabs the thimble and examines it. It’s exactly the same as the previous ones: silver-colored, probably new, judging by how shiny it looks. Nothing in it seems to indicate any ill-intent towards him, but still Suga narrows his eyes at it.

He sighs resignedly and drops the thimble inside his bag, determined to ignore it whenever his fingers brush it while getting out his clothes, just as he’s been doing with the other two for the last few days.

 

 

On Sunday, Suga buys some fabric and makes a pouch. It’s the ugliest thing he’s ever made – a folded, frayed green rectangle with the sides haphazardly sewn with black thread and without strings to keep it shut, so he has to keep the open side closed with paper clips – but it serves its purpose of keeping his thimbles together so they don’t fall when he takes out something from his bag. (Thank goodness sewing isn’t considered a necessary skill by the educational system, or he wouldn’t be on his second year of high school.)

He shouldn’t care whether he loses one or not, but his latest theory is that someone keeps losing thimbles and whoever it is that finds them has assumed that Suga is their owner, so Suga feels he must look after them until their true owner shows up asking about them.

If he’s a bit worried about why he’s thinking about the thimbles in the same way he’d think about a lost pet, he doesn’t let it bother him. He’s more concerned with how he’s started considering them as “his” thimbles.

 

 

“We’re going to get something to eat,” Suga tells Daichi on Tuesday of the third week, pointing at Asahi, who’s standing at the door. “Do you want to go with us?”

He grins when he speaks, tries to sound as casual as possible, hopes that his mental chant of _please say yes_ can’t be heard by his friend.

Daichi gives him an awkward smile and avoids his eyes, and it’s really hard to keep the smile on when disappointment is pushing him down.

“I’m a bit tight with money this month,” Daichi says, and that makes Suga’s hopes go up.

“It’s okay, I’ll pay this time. You can pay next month.”

“Are you paying for everyone?” asks Asahi. Both Daichi and Suga look at him with raised eyebrows. He raises his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I-I can pay next time.”

“See? Asahi pays next time, you can pay after that!” Suga says, quickly turning back to look at Daichi. Just in case, Suga tries to smile a bit more brightly. “Come on, Daichi.”

Daichi hesitates for a moment, shrugs and smiles.

“Thanks, Suga.”

Suga would be skipping if he could. He has to settle with skipping mentally.

 

 

On Wednesday, Suga pays for the food again, because Asahi went home first and he’s not going to let Daichi starve after practice just because the designated buyer isn’t around. It’s not because he likes the idea of spending a few more minutes around Daichi, of course not — it’s just because he’s worried about Daichi’s well-being.

What doesn’t have anything to do with Daichi’s well-being is Suga’s suggestion that they can get something to eat again tomorrow; having a crush is complicated enough without adding denial to the mix, and Suga doesn’t believe lying to himself will get him anywhere.

 

 

On Thursday, Asahi goes with them, and Suga pays for his food again, since he’d said he’d be inviting that day.

He regrets the kindness of his heart when, while looking for his wallet, he ends up taking out the pouch. Asahi’s face when he sees it makes it clear that its ugliness affected his sensibilities, and when he tries to erase the expression from his face he ends up looking constipated.

Then Daichi sees the pouch, and he looks as horrified as Asahi before a chuckle escapes him.

“What is that?” Daichi asks, trying to keep a straight face.

“It’s a pouch,” Suga replies coldly, which doesn’t go well with how hot his face feels. Maybe his last act on earth before dying of embarrassment should be to throw the pouch at Daichi’s head.

“Really?” Asahi asks in a whisper. He probably hadn’t meant to say it aloud, because he seems to shrink right after he speaks. Now Suga has to decide whether to throw the pouch at Asahi or Daichi.

“Let me see that,” Daichi says, extending a hand, jaw trembling from contained laughter.

Somewhere else, at an earlier hour, if he weren’t tired after practice and hoping for a chance to run away, Suga would would have resisted, but they won’t stop until he lets them see the pouch, so he hands it over and escapes to the register to pay, hoping that by the time he returns, the examination of his craftsmanship will be over.

It isn’t. Asahi looks like he’s having a hard time deciding between staring horrified into the horizon and laughing, and Daichi’s poking the pouch, as if trying to see if it’ll bite him.

“What’s in here?” Daichi asks when he sees Suga. He’s gripping the pouch tightly, like he’s afraid it might fall.

“Can I have that back?” Suga says curtly.

The thimbles clink when Suga takes the pouch, and Daichi’s expression doesn’t fit the moment – there’s hope and eagerness in the way his lips part to repeat his question, but fear and nervousness in the way his eyes go from the pouch to Suga’s face – but it’s gone as soon as it appeared to be replaced by a teasing smile.

“You know, I think you were supposed to turn it inside out to hide the stitches.”

“Maybe you can put a zipper on it to keep it closed,” Asahi suggests, pointing at the paper clips on the pouch.

Suga’s lips tighten into a fine line as he puts the thimbles back in his bag. Then he punches Daichi in the chest and jabs Asahi’s side, and proceeds to hold the food hostage until they’re ten meters away from the store.

He spends the walk home thinking about Daichi’s face when he returned the pouch.

 

 

Friday morning, Suga feels like crap and, judging by how worried Daichi looks as soon as his eyes set on Suga, he guesses he looks a bit like crap too.

“Are you okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Suga says, covering a yawn with his hand.

“Why? Did something happen?”

“No, nothing. I just couldn’t fall asleep.” _I kept thinking about the weird look you gave me yesterday, because it’s the same way I look at you when I’m about to ask you to hang out with me._

Suga tries for a smile. Daichi frowns and sighs.

“If there’s anything I can do to help you, just tell me, okay?” He doesn’t just sound worried, he also sounds a bit sad, his earnest expression making it hard for Suga to not reach over and rub the spot between his eyes to make the frown disappear — but a gesture like that would be too close to a confession, so instead he takes his worry and his affection and transforms them into something less obvious: a sincere smile. 

“Thank you, Daichi.”

 

 

On Saturday morning, Suga discovers that he doesn’t have to be the last one to leave to get a thimble.

He enters the locker room with Ennoshita, grabs his bag and there’s a clinking sound. He looks down in time to see a thimble rolling away.

“Is this yours?” Ennoshita asks, picking up the thimble.

“…Yes! Thank you,” Suga says.

He doesn’t bother looking for the pouch. He just drops the thimble in his bag, half-relieved that this means the person responsible isn’t some sort of stalker who keeps waiting for Suga to be alone before leaving him a thimble, half-pissed that this means there isn’t really a pattern to determine how to get or avoid getting thimbles.

 

 

The person who sits in front of Suga always leaves during lunchtime to eat with friends from another class, so when the weather isn’t good enough to eat outside, Daichi takes her chair, puts his food on Suga’s desk and they eat together. Suga likes those days, likes seeing both their lunches on top of his desk, likes it that the space between them is small and comfortable and that he can simply exist without worrying about how he acts.

Monday is one of those days.

“I got something for you,” Daichi says as he pulls up the chair to Suga’s desk.

“Is it my birthday?” Suga says, giving him a surprised look.

“I hope not, this isn’t good enough for a birthday present.” Daichi reaches into his pocket and takes out a pouch. “Sorry for laughing the other day,” he says as he hands it over.

The fabric is blue and it looks worn, as do the black strings that keep it closed. Daichi’s full name is written in the inner side of the pouch in black marker, the handwriting messy, uneven, and too big.

“Uh, Daichi?” Suga says tentatively.

Daichi smiles, proud, and points at the gift.

“I used it to carry money when I was in first grade. I found it while I was looking for some things on Saturday and I thought you could use it instead of your pouch?”

Suga remains quiet, looks back at this little piece of Daichi’s life from years before they met. There’s a long silence, because he can’t stop looking at it, running his fingers over the fabric. He should really say something before Daichi gets the wrong idea.

“Thank you.” He’s holding the pouch with the utmost care, and he can’t keep his lips from curving upwards, his teeth showing in a grin that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Can I know now what it was you were carrying in that pouch?”

Daichi’s grinning, and Suga’s smile changes into an awkward one.

“Uh… You can look.” He reaches into his bag, grabs his pouch, and hands it over to Daichi, who starts taking out the paper clips. “They’re just thimbles.”

Daichi stops and stares at Suga. He doesn’t look confused or amused, like Suga was expecting; he looks just like he did last Thursday.

“Thimbles?”

“Yes. Thimbles.”

Daichi resumes opening the pouch, pulls out the thimbles and sets them on a row on top of the desk.

“Why?”

“I keep finding them, so I’m hoping to find their owner,” Suga lies. Maybe if he talks about the thimbles the person responsible will stop leaving them, and he’ll be left without an answer.

“You think they all belong to the same person? Who would lose that many thimbles?” Daichi stares at the thimbles as if they were a puzzle and his inability to solve it was annoying him.

“I don’t know. But I’m worried about their budget,” Suga says, trying to make his tone as light as possible.

Daichi makes a sound that might be of agreement and reaches to put the thimbles back in the pouch, but Suga stops him, and hands him the blue one.

“Put them here instead. It’s why you gave it to me.”

Daichi relaxes, and they don’t discuss the thimbles again as they eat.

After practice, Suga stays until everyone else has left, because he wants to get a new thimble to commemorate the acquisition of a decent pouch, and he’s not willing to wait until Thimble Person gets another chance to leave him one.

As expected, there’s a thimble on top of his bag. He grins when it clinks against the other four when he puts it away.

At home, he takes out the thimbles and lines them up on his bed. They look like little knights to him, sent on some mysterious mission to Suga’s house.

 _Every team needs at least six people_ , he thinks.

On Tuesday of the fifth week, he again makes sure to be the last one to leave. 

He feels oddly proud of himself when he gets home later and sets his thimbles on two rows on top of his bedside table.

He stops trying to get thimbles, afterwards. He doesn’t feel it’s a fair game if he forces the situation, and, besides, if he stays late he can’t walk home with Daichi.

 

 

Someone at some point of the first trimester suggested that a good way to build team spirit would be to organize a movie night. The reunion to watch “My Neighbor Totoro” – which had been chosen because most of the team had seen it – had ended with Tanaka and Nishinoya crying their eyes out, Asahi sobbing, one third year declaring it was overrated and getting into an argument with another third year who thought it was a masterpiece, snacks being thrown around, and Suga asleep against Daichi’s shoulder. He’d woken up to the agitated voices of the third years and had barely stirred when he’d felt Daichi’s hand on his eyes.

“They turned the lights on. You don’t want to open your eyes immediately,” Daichi had murmured, in a soft and careful voice.

“Thank you-” Suga had murmured back and had had to close his mouth quickly, because he’d been about to add ‘I love you’ to the end of the sentence.

It hadn’t been a bad night, but after the argument, cleaning up, and dealing with the crying team members, everyone had agreed that it had been far too much trouble, so it’d be better to wait some time before trying again.

On Saturday of the ninth week, the second movie night happens.

They’re at Daichi’s house, chosen because he’s alone that weekend, so the third years can argue to their hearts’ content, and also because everyone respects him enough not to throw too many snacks around.

They make a list of all the movies they brought and, after forty minutes of deliberation in which several rules are established – which includes vetoing animated films, romcoms, thrillers, horror movies, dramas, and documentaries – they opt for a live action version of “Peter Pan” from 2003.

Suga doesn’t think anyone expects anything from the movie – the third years look ready to start arguing again, Tanaka has already seen it, Daichi even looks tense – and he doesn’t either, he’s in fact planning a repetition from the previous movie night, but as he’s getting ready to fall asleep, sinking into his seat, Peter Pan asks what a kiss is, and Wendy Darling gives him a thimble claiming that’s what it is.

“Shit,” Suga says aloud, without meaning to, prompting everyone to turn to him in surprise – Asahi looks almost terrified, Nishinoya like he’s been told Santa doesn’t exist – and Suga can feel his ears and face turning red.

He gets it. It’s just a hunch, he has no proof, but he knows: for nine weeks, he’s been collecting kisses. He watches the faces around him, tries to catch any sign that the person responsible belongs to the volleyball club before considering other people, but everyone just seems worried or shocked.

“I just remembered something,” he says, smiling apologetically. “It’s fine.”

Everyone reluctantly looks back at the screen. Suga stops paying attention, spends the time thinking back to the last nine weeks, his mind going back to Daichi at any possible chance - Daichi, who hadn’t had money at the start of the trimester, who’d seemed anxious when the movie had been picked, who had looked at Suga strangely when he’d seen he’d kept the thimbles, who hasn’t relaxed since the movie started.

Afterwards, when it’s time to leave, Suga lingers. He walks as slowly as possible when he goes to get his things, then entertains himself washing glasses in the kitchen with methodic dedication – his mom would be delighted if he washed the dishes like this at home.

Daichi doesn’t say anything; he probably suspects Suga needs to talk. It has happened before, with school or family related situations.

Everyone’s gone by the time Suga’s done with the glasses. Daichi’s leaning against the kitchen’s doorframe, follows him to the hallway when Suga walks past without a word, holding his bag tightly.

When Suga reaches the front door, he takes out the pouch and turns to look at Daichi, who’s just a couple of steps behind him.

“Did something happen?” Daichi asks.

Suga considers pros and cons of asking directly about the thimbles, and concludes he needs more than wishful thinking based on some little facts that could be easily explained in any other way, that it’s not worth risking it, that he might make Daichi uncomfortable if it turns out it wasn’t him. But, if that’s the case, Suga can always laugh at his mistake, fix it later. If Daichi is the person responsible, Suga wants to know immediately. He can win more than what he can lose, and-

“I don’t know why, but you’re overthinking,” Daichi points out, and Suga decides to try a mix between his options.

“I realized something about thimbles.”

“The ones in your pouch?” Daichi looks confused.

Suga’s beginning to consider that he should have waited a bit before jumping to conclusions - his mouth is dry, his heart’s beating hard enough that he can feel his pulse on the tips of his fingers, he’s a bit dizzy with nerves - but he’s already started and he’s getting the answers he needs.

“Yes, those. And also about you not having money when the trimester started.”

He’s absolutely sure that Daichi will fake ignorance, because he raises his eyebrows, seems as confused as an innocent person would be — but then he stops pretending, his shoulders sag and he looks apologetic.

“I was really hoping you wouldn’t find out.”

“Really?”

“You didn’t make much of an effort to catch me,” Daichi says matter of factly.

“I thought it was a joke. And it was harmless, I mean… they were just thimbles.” He shakes the pouch, and Daichi looks away. “Was it a joke, or were you trying to tell me something?”

Last chance for Daichi to back off, but Suga doubts he will. He trusts Daichi to deal with the consequences of what he does, to stay firm and determined even when he’s terrified and nervous, to be honest instead of letting Suga down with a lie or an excuse.

“We’re friends, Suga.” Daichi’s voice is certain, like he’s speaking the biggest truth of the universe, and it feels like a slap, but Suga waits, because Daichi’s looking straight into his eyes and seems to be gathering courage to continue. “And I lo-I like you.”

Suga wants to dance, laugh, cry, tell every person willing or unwilling to listen that ‘He lo-likes me’, but the biggest feeling is a surge of tenderness towards Daichi that makes Suga want to hug him, tell him he loves him until his throat hurts and the words have lost their meaning, and then kiss him a thousand times.

“So you decided to give me thimbles?” he says instead, trying to get some time to decide what to do.

“I needed to tell you, but I didn’t want it to change things... I started with the thimbles so I could move on. Sorry about that.”

Daichi looks down, doesn’t move. Suga waits a moment before taking a step towards him, keeping his expression neutral as he grabs one of Daichi’s hands and shakes the pouch over it, dropping its contents on the palm. Daichi tries to catch the thimbles, but he only manages to grab three, and looks at the eight kisses on the ground like it’s his heart that Suga has just let fall unceremoniously.

He looks up to Suga’s face and takes a deep breath, probably readying himself to apologize again or demand an explanation for the cruelty, but before he can speak, Suga leans in and kisses him – or, more accurately, his lips brush against Daichi’s for a second before he pulls away.

“One,” Suga says.

“What?”

Daichi looks confused, his brow furrowed, his hand reaching up to touch his lips, so Suga raises his head a bit to kiss the tip of his nose.

“Two.” Suga grins when Daichi’s eyes widen in understanding. For that, he kisses the spot right between Daichi’s eyes. “Three!”

Daichi’s grinning as well. He leans in, trying to kiss Suga, but Suga puts a hand over his mouth.

“You got eleven before today, it’s my turn.” He squints a bit, playfully reproaching, then kisses Daichi’s temples. “Four, five.”

He can feel Daichi’s smile against his palm, and when he pulls back his hand, Daichi reaches for it and entwines their fingers.

“This is unfair,” Daichi says, still smiling.

“I’m making us even,” Suga replies, and kisses the center of Daichi’s forehead. “Six.”

Daichi doesn’t say anything else afterwards, stays still as Suga kisses his cheeks (“Seven, eight”), and the knuckles of the hand that’s still holding onto the thimbles (“Nine!”), but his breath catches when Suga turns his hand to kiss the inside of his wrist and whispers “Ten” against it. His face is serious, expectant, hopeful, like he’s just waiting for a signal to let him know if acting upon what he feels will be welcome.

The eleventh kiss is on Daichi’s lips. He’s vaguely aware of the clinking of the last three thimbles falling when Daichi threads his fingers in Suga’s hair, but he’s more preoccupied with getting himself acquainted with the taste of Daichi’s mouth, the warmth of his hands, how their bodies fit against each other, and the small sound of pleasure that Daichi lets out when Suga sucks his lower lip.

“How many did you buy?” Suga asks later, as they’re kneeled on the floor looking for the thimbles.

“Thirty.”

“Thirty?” He looks at Daichi in mock horror. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

Daichi shrugs.

“I was going to need a lot of thimbles to get over you.”

“That… doesn’t make sense, Daichi.”

“Yes, I know. It seemed like a good idea at the time… I was a bit desperate.”

Suga stares for a moment and then laughs, the happiness bubbling inside him making it impossible to keep a straight face.

“Sorry,” he says, covering his mouth with his hands. “I’m not laughing at you.”

He can’t stop laughing, but then Daichi’s laughing too and kissing him again, and they end up dropping the thimbles they’d managed to find.

 

 

By the time they get to their third year of high school, the thimbles haven’t stopped appearing. They’re left on Suga’s bag in the club room, handed over along with food after practice, given every morning as they say hello.

Suga leaves thimbles as well: on top of Daichi’s desk when he goes to talk to him, in Daichi’s bag when he looks for something inside it.

They’re as careful of not being caught leaving thimbles as they are with not being caught kissing, but they can get away with it more easily.

Sometimes, though, they give thimbles when there’s no need to, when it’s only them and they have the freedom to initiate any kind of contact they want. They’ll be studying in Suga’s room, and Daichi will push a thimble towards him without raising his eyes from his book. Or they’ll be on Daichi’s couch, curled together watching a movie, and Suga will reach for one of Daichi’s hands and put a thimble on one of his fingers. Or, after kissing goodbye when they walk home, Daichi will find that Suga slipped a thimble into his pocket, and he will slip it into Suga’s pocket the next morning, when they meet to walk to school together.

 

 

Here’s something Suga is absolutely sure of: in ten, twenty, thirty years, he’ll keep finding thimbles everywhere, and so will Daichi.

He suspects Daichi thinks the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to the friend who linked me to [this](https://twitter.com/okeidohan/status/536854609222840320) fanart. That's the entire reason this fic exists. Well, that and the idea of Suga being absolutely terrible at sewing.
> 
> I tried to find out how much thimbles cost. Amazon says it's about US$2 each (for the kind I was thinking for this fic). Even if it's just US$1 per thimble, all I know is that I had to be very careful with my money in highschool, so spending US$30 at the start of the month would have given me problems with my budget (I actually can't remember a point in high school at which I had that much money).


End file.
